


Let the Sun Shine In

by taishige



Series: The Reina Arc [1]
Category: Johnny's Entertainment, TOKIO
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-27
Updated: 2009-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taishige/pseuds/taishige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a point in Joshima's life when he realizes things can't go back to the way they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Sun Shine In

Matsuoka had originally been planning to go out that night. A few of his friends were on a road trip and had been coming through town, invited him to come along--it would have been fun. Unfortunately, around 5:00, an awful rain set in. This in itself wouldn’t have been awful except that his friends were some of the laziest people he knew and decided to put off leaving Ueno in favor of spending one more night at the indoor onsen in which they were currently residing.

Matsuoka was in no way surprised.

He was, however, stuck with absolutely nothing to do as a result. He decided to take advantage of this time to sit back and have a relaxing evening in his apartment.

He started by making himself an exquisite (if he did say so himself) batch of kabocha soup, coupled with two large dumplings he’d bought just the other day. He finished by opening up the case of beer he’d been telling himself to save for a rainy day.

Asahi Super Dry. You couldn’t get much better than that.

He was feeling _pretty_ good by the time he was finished eating.

Today’s paper had been sitting on his kitchen table since that morning, so he swiped it up on the way to his living area, soon falling back into the cushions of his couch with a restful sigh. He flicked it open.

Only to get an abrupt knock at his door.

Not quite sure if he’d been hearing things or not, he glanced over towards the door, motionless.

Nothing.

Nothing.

His eyes traveled back to the article on the front page.

Another knock.

Resignedly, he pushed himself off the couch and made his way to the door. Perhaps they’d decided to come after all. He’d be surprised, for sure, but he couldn’t imagine who the hell else would be knocking at his door on a rainy Friday night.

He swung the door open without checking through the peep hole.

And then stopped.

Ok, so it wasn’t what he expected. Even _less_ so than if it had been his group of friends.

Yet it wasn’t all that unusual either.

The drowned rat that was his bandleader stood looking pathetic and drenched, water dripping from his clothes audibly onto the carpeted floor below.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other.

Then Joshima stepped forward, clutching Matsuoka around the middle desperately and burying his head in the other’s chest.

Matsuoka’s shoulders fell in a commiserative sigh, one hand coming up to rest on Joshima’s shoulder.

“What happened this time?”

\------------------------------------------------

“He’s a _jerk!_ ”

Even despite the barked emphasis, it came out muffled as Matsuoka pulled the sweatshirt over his head with a tug.

“An absolute _jerk!_ ”

His hair now looked horrible. Even worse than before. Matsuoka finished pulling Joshima's arms through the holes of the oversized article of clothing before flattening the hem at the bottom. He escaped into his bathroom a moment, returning with a towel in order to give Joshima's hair a rough drying.

“He really… it’s like… what was he even thinking? I _hate him_.”

“You don’t hate him.”

“Yes I do. He’s a pathetic, perverted moron, and I’m never talking to him again.”

Matsuoka pulled the towel away once Joshima's hair had ceased dripping, now only sticking up in damp, semi-staticy clumps.

“How many beers have you had, Shige?”

Joshima looked at him doggedly. “None.”

Matsuoka stood up from where he’d been kneeling, hands now on Joshima's shoulders as he began directing him back out into the living area.

“How many beers have you had, Shige?”

“I don’t know. I lost count.” He seemed cooperative--for a moment. All of a sudden Joshima pushed himself away until he was facing Matsuoka again, shoving his hands off. “But it was _his_ fault!”

Matsuoka bit his lower lip, moving his hands back. “Alright, what did he do?”

“He… he…”

Joshia leaned forward to clutch the front of Matsuoka’s shirt, expression changing instantaneously from infuratied to mournful.  “Mabo, it was such a good day… it was… he… we were filming right? The DASH? And… and… oh, it was just great.”

His accent was coming out so thick it was hard for Matsuoka to understand everything, but he got the gist of it. The amount of “yaro na’s” at the end of his sentences was actually impressive.

“I had so much fun, and… and he said… we were going to, he was going to take me out, right? After we were done? We were gonna get yakiniku… and… and…”

“Mhmm, mhmm.” Matsuoka had taken this opportunity of distraction to resume their walk over to the couch.

“…and then _she_ called… I knew it was her. I can always tell. We were ready to go! We really were! And when she called… he just… left. He _left_. Barely even said goodbye!” This was accompanied by a rather wild swinging of his arms, barely missing Matsuoka’s face.

Matsuoka could understand why his older comrade was irate, because for as long as he’d known both of them, dinner also meant much drinking followed by much of a far different kind of activity at the nearest hotel that night. Nevertheless, he wasn’t surprised, as this would now be the third unplanned visit he’d received from Joshima in the last four months.

“What the hell _is_ that?! Who would do… something like that? I had nothing to do… not even… even…” Joshima's voice trailed off, shoulders falling. Matsuoka had finally gotten him over to the couch and was now pushing down. Joshima sat with a slump, the sweatshirt overtaking him.

Matsuoka leaned forward to rustle his hair reassuredly. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

Joshima hit his fists into the cushions beneath him. “I don’t _want_ an explanation, I want _Tatsuya._ Mabo, what’s wrong with me? Why does he hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“I’m not good enough for him anymore, am I?” He was up on his knees now, voice directed towards who-knows-what. “I’m not good enough for you, _huh? Is that it!?_ ”

“Hey, hey…” Matsuoka had his shoulders again, setting him back into the couch.

Joshima pouted.

“Just stay there, alright?”

When it didn’t look like he was going to move again, Matsuoka made his way over to the kitchen. Popping open the top of his water heater, he saw it nearly empty and proceeded to the sink. As he was filling it up, he glanced back towards the couch. Joshima was still there. Calmly sitting.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Once it was full, it was back to the counter where he plugged it into the wall. It would only take a few seconds to heat up. He still praised the day he’d bought that thing. He pulled a mug off one of the nearby shelves, which happened to feature a happy-looking Pooh-san, and then began rummaging through the pantry for the half-empty cocoa mix he knew he had somewhere.

Joshima was now flinging pillows against the side of the couch.

“ _I hate him, I hate him, I HATE him!_ ”

Matsuoka finally found it in the back, taking both items back to the counter.

“Shige.”

No response.

“ _Shige_.”

The thumping of the pillows stopped. It was quiet for a few moments.

And finally. “…what?”

“So where’d you guys go today, huh?”

Joshima flung his arms over the back of the couch, his expression happy for the first time that night. “Around the Aichi area. You should have seen the fish – they were _so adorable_ …”

“Is that so?”

Joshima nodded vigorously, then simply sat his head down on the cushion, rolling a bit to the side. “I even  _caught_ one… and… Tatsuya… did that thing, you know… that thing he always does…”

Matsuoka tossed a few spoonfuls of the mix into the mug before placing it under the water heater. With the press of a button, he filled it to the top. “Enlighten me.”

Joshima shrank back, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Oh, you _know_ … when the cameras aren’t looking…” He was scratching his head now, clearly too ashamed to continue.

Matsuoka raised an eyebrow. Maybe he didn’t _want_ to know. Rolling his eyes, he took the mug back into the other room, sitting it on the small coffee table. From there, he took a quick detour to the bedroom to grab one of the blankets at the foot of his bed. Joshima watched him lazily, body lax against the cushions.

Upon his return, Matsuoka couldn’t help the wince at Joshima's uncomfortable-looking position, and was forced to pull him down until he was sitting in the couch like a normal person. He then wrapped the blanket around his front, grabbed the mug from the table, and forced it into his hands.

“Drink this before you freeze to death.”

Joshima complied wordlessly, though he seemed a bit uncertain about the contents of the mug. Matsuoka continued to watch him as he sat down on the other side of the couch.

One sip.

Two sips.

He relaxed a bit. Perhaps Joshima was calming down.

Three sips.

Four sips.

Joshima was bawling.

“Mabo, what’s… what’s wrong with me… I thought everything, I was so excited… it’d been so long…”

“Hey, _hey_ …” Matsuoka scooted himself a bit closer, one hand coming up to rub Joshima's head gently.

“I even… Mabo, I even got one of those magazines… you know, those ones for girls? On the front it… it said it could make me the best… best sex of his life, right? So I… I… it said I should encourage his p… primal… urges? Let him take me up against a-”

Matsuoka promptly pushed the mug up into his mouth.

“Drink.”

More wordless compliance. Tears were still streaming down his face, but he took a large gulp. Upon finishing, a small hiccup escaped his lips.

He remained quiet for a few more moments, staring down at the half-empty mug.

When he did speak again, it came out so quiet and despondent that Matsuoka didn’t register it at first.

“…what’d I do wrong…?”

Matsuoka didn’t say anything. With a small sigh, he reached forward to take the mug back, placing it on the table. Then he simply reached his arm around the other’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Joshima instinctively buried his head into Matsuoka's armpit.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Shige.”

Joshima's shoulders were still shaking, but he had calmed down considerably. Matsuoka ran his hand through his hair out of habit, staring towards the opposite wall as he felt his shirt grow damp.

After a few minutes, the shaking had stopped entirely, Joshima’s breathing having slowed and his body now limp in his arms. Matsuoka let his hand fall from his head to his back, drawing soft circles with his palm.

Really… how long _was_ this going to go on?

Matsuoka chewed on the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t seen it coming at first. He could still remember when he’d first met her, but he hadn’t thought much about it then. It wasn’t until that first time Joshima’d come to him… well, not really the first time. Joshima’d used to come to him all the time, but not like this.

Before, it had usually been when he was excited. “Tatsuya took me out tonight!” or “You’d never believe what he did today!” the greeting he got when he opened the door, followed by the smaller man bounding inside his apartment.

Or, to go back even further, that time they’d been almost done with an album shoot and Joshima’d nonchalantly walked over to him with the biggest, uncontrollable grin on his face. The only explanation he got: “He called me Shige.”

And Joshima’d continued to come to him in all his excitement. Because they were friends.

He’d been wondering for some time now if he should talk to Tatsuya, yet he couldn’t think of what he would say. He didn’t want to hurt either of them, though clearly that had already happened despite his lack of involvement.

Plus, he was running out of things to say.

Something else clearly needed to be done, though he had no idea what that was. He needed to get someone else’s thoughts, was what he needed. Though until now, he’d kept everything pretty well under wraps. Even from Taichi, which was strange as he told him pretty much _everything_ else, including that time he’d had that strange bowel movement during one of their PV filmings. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. He was pretty sure the other knew _something_ was going on between them, though maybe some of their antics were only obvious to him because he already knew. Maybe it all came down to the fact that he thought it in Joshima’s best interest that the less people who knew, the better.

He’d never even _considered_ telling Nagase. More than one of their drunken conversations in the past, after the topic of Joshima somehow coming up had led to Nagase exclaiming… oh, what had his exact words been? That he’d love to “fuck him into the mattress sometime”? To which Matsuoka had fairly quickly changed the topic of conversation to something other than their bandleader.

Mainly because he knew that was the _last_ thing that Joshima needed. Especially considering Nagase’s on-again-off-again thing with Koichi that would inevitably take precedence.

Or Nagase’s on-again-off-again with just about anyone of a smaller, subordinate stature. Matsuoka was almost positive he and Taichi had gotten together more than once, despite Taichi never mentioning it.

He should probably bring that up at some point.

But he was getting completely off-topic now. He had to think about the current situation and what he was going to do about it.

Current situation.

He glanced down at the top of Joshima’s head, biting his lip.

Currently, he needed to take care of the passed-out man breathing heavily into his armpit.

With a little sigh, he twisted his body around so he could take Joshima in both his arms, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet. He then had to reposition until he had a good grip around Joshima’s rear and back, hoisting him halfway onto his shoulder.

Joshima could have the bed tonight. He’d sleep on the couch.

As he made his way back to the bedroom, he felt Joshima’s face press into his shoulder, a satisfied-sounding “Gussan…” slightly muffled by the fabric. Matsuoka frowned, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from the depressing fact that he wasn’t Tatsuya or the depressing fact that it hadn’t been _his_ name.

When he reached the bed, he let the sack of potatoes on his shoulder fall with a soft whump, Joshima curling up on his side almost immediately. He pulled the covers out from under him before replacing them over the top. After pausing for a moment, he went to the closet to pull out the winter blankets, placing two over his bandmate’s sleeping form and leaving one more for himself out on the couch.

Walking out of the room, he glanced back once. It was a surprisingly depressing feeling, knowing that there was nothing he could do.

Maybe he really _did_ need to ask for advice from someone else. _He_ was certainly clean out of ideas.

He plopped the extra blanket down on the couch to join the one Joshima had been using earlier, then began searching around the room. On top of the stereo. Next to his bonsai tree, Ritsuko. On the kitchen counter--oh wait, there it was.

He snatched his cell phone off the counter and took it back to the living room, sitting down wearily. With a flick of his wrist, it was open, and it took only one press of a button for the speed-dial to key-in the number he wanted.

One ring.

Two rings.

He had to be there.

Three ri-*click*

“Heeeeey, you. I thought you were busy with your friends this weekend.”

Matsuoka couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face just from the sound of his voice. “Yeah, well… weather put an end to those plans.”

“Is it bad over there?”

“It’s not horrible, no… but… clearly it was bad enough to delay the trip.”

Taichi laughed, his voice only slightly warbled by the connection.

“So what’s up? You bored now? Or did you wanna take me up on my original invitation?”

Another grin. “As excruciatingly tempting as that is… I’m actually calling you for some advice…”

\----------------------------------------------

Matsuoka woke up the next morning with his legs feeling stiff as boards and a horrendous crick in his back. There was a bright line of sunlight shining directly in his eyes.

Slightly confused, he blinked a few times, shook his head to clear himself, and then remembered the reason he’d shacked up on the couch the previous night.

In fact, upon sitting up and glancing down at the floor nearby, he discovered that very reason curled up in a blanket with his back pressed into the side of the couch. He shook his head, reaching towards the nearest table to retrieve his glasses.

Clearly his self-sacrificial effort had all been for naught.

Groaning a bit, he pushed himself up off the couch, arms above his head in a rather painful stretch. He brought his hand to his mouth with a yawn as he lurched his way into the kitchen. Water-heater, here he came.

There was still a fairly good supply of water in it, so he grabbed a mug, emptied perhaps _too_ much instant coffee into the bottom, and then filled it to the brim. Satisfied, he made his way back to living room and sank into the couch.

He took a sip from his coffee.

After a few seconds, he leaned forward to watch Joshima sleep from his uncomfortable position on the floor.

“Shige.”

Nothing. No movement. No noise. Nothing.

“Shige.” A little louder this time.

Joshima’s nose twitched.

“Shigeeeee…”

Finally, his eyes opened slowly, blinking a few times against the harsh light. One corner of Matsuoka’s mouth turned up in a grin as he watched.

It took a few seconds more before Joshima was pushing himself up to a kneeling position. He was glancing around, eyebrows furrowed, extremely confused.

Upon seeing Matsuoka, they furrowed even more, his mouth opening slightly. “Mabo…?”

Matsuoka wondered how long it would take him to remember.

And then Joshima's eyes opened wide.

Oh. He remembered.

Matsuoka watched as his expression went from surprised to agonized and finally to completely neutral. Emotionless. The way he always got.

If there was one thing Matsuoka had discovered over the past year or so, it was that Joshima did _not_ talk about his problems with Tatsuya while sober. Hell, he’d stopped talking about Tatsuya altogether lately unless he was fairly well gone. Matsuoka assumed this was due to there being nothing to talk about  _besides_ problems.

“Sleep well?”

Joshima stared down at the space between Matsuoka’s feet before giving the slightest of nods.

“Floor couldn't have been comfortable.”

Joshima chewed on his bottom lip. After a few moments, he simply shrugged.

Matsuoka stuck his hand out, offering his mug to the other man. “Coffee?”

He was uncertain at first, then reached out a bit tentatively, fingers wrapping around the sides. He brought it in to his chest wordlessly.

Matsuoka watched him, hoping his expression didn’t appear too pained.

“…thanks.”

Silence.

It was a few more moments before he finally brought the mug up to take a sip.

Matsuoka fiddled with his glasses.

“Hey Shige, we need to talk.”

Joshima was on his feet. “Can I, uh… can I take a shower?”

Silence again.

Matsuoka’s shoulders fell, a small sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Joshima ducked his head, walking away to where he’d left his bag the night before. He set the coffee mug down on the table as he left.

Matsuoka watched him go, elbows resting on his knees. After a few moments, he took his glasses off his face, rubbing his eyes in defeat.


End file.
